


the miracle of one

by missroserose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loneliness, M/M, Short One Shot, overly symbolic use of bridges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missroserose/pseuds/missroserose
Summary: Castiel does his best to give the boys a little privacy.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	the miracle of one

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a Wincest prompt and turned into Castiel-angst along the way...I blame the fandom.

_Dean, if things don’t—if tomorrow doesn’t—_

_—shhh—_

Castiel closes his eyes. He appreciates the boys’ attempt at discretion, really—it’s not their fault that Castiel is a being of energy, of sound and light and music, sensitive to the plane around him. Not their fault that he’s a messenger, an instrument exquisitely tuned to pick up vibrations, be they physical, auditory, emotional. Not their fault that practice and habit and circumstance have conspired to attune him to the Winchesters, specifically.

Shifting, creaking, as of movement on a worn bedframe. _Shh, Sammy. We’re together. That’s what matters._

Castiel opens his mind to the area around him, picks a place. When he hears the water, feels the air cool on his vessel’s skin, he opens his eyes again. 

Sheer cliff faces rise up to either side, menacing in the moonlight. Dark water, churning far below him, all but invisible save for where rocks toss the waves into whitecaps, the movement constant but faint. Steel solid beneath his feet as he perches on the trestle.

It’s a quaint idea, really. Privacy. A petty human construct, confounding to his kind. In Heaven—at least, in the higher reaches of Heaven, to which they all aspire—there’s no separation, no substantial difference between _I_ and _We_. Nothing dividing them from each other but the barest conception of a self, pure light and sound merged with so many other lights and sounds, overwhelming and filled with awe. Blinking eyes and beating wings and the upraised voices of a host, a collective, bound together in praise and pure unrelenting joy—

_—God, yes, just like that—_ a heavy thump, the vibration of a head hitting the wall—

At least, Castiel thinks it was joyous. In his current form, the glory of Heaven closed to him in all but memory, the images are disjointed, patchy; there’s something missing, a depth of emotion, of dimension. Here in this dark, physical realm of all-too-discrete life in which he’s become trapped, there’s nothing like the glory of the heavenly host, nothing like the near-instantaneous communication between beings, that beautiful enmeshment of minds, that comforting whisper of sublime certainty.

_—Sammy, it’s okay—I’m here for you—_

—and yet. Here on this plane, there is still communion, still joy. As primitive an echo of Heavenly creatures as they are, as dark a shadow of the celestial sphere this place is, its inhabitants find ways to reach toward each other. To achieve that most fundamental and most elevated of goals, that bone-deep need that binds them all.

_—Dean, please, I need it—_

_—I’m right here, Sammy, just let go—_

Castiel turns his face up to the moon. Tilts his vessel forward, a little further, until gravity takes over.

Someday, perhaps, he will be welcome in Heaven again. 

The wind is cool against his face, and for a moment, it sounds like the rushing of wings.

**Author's Note:**

> I love feedback. Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](https://missroserose.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
